Stev Booker - Downtime / freeplay

Sheets of notes and open books lay stacked around Stev like the walls of a castle. This was how he approached problems, with research, ideas and calculations. Crunching the numbers, so to speak. His father had introduced him to this method of problem solving, having passed down his name, vocation, critical thinking and work ethic like some noble families pass down heraldry. The Booker family had approached life with numbers, trying to force the world to dance to the tune of their scribbled ledgers and balanced equations. As such, what Stev was about to try was almost heretical in nature, and certainly out of his comfort zone.

“Spooks” He called, “I have a favour to ask.”

“Yeh, what?” Asked the figure beside him. Stev blinked, the small boy was almost supernaturally quiet.

“Look, I have some ideas.” Stev brandished some notes, diagrams and scrawls covering the pages, “Possible road configurations and scenarios, field of vision calculations, common failings of the human eye…” Stev trailed off slowly as the orphan transitioned from puzzlement and confusion to wary apprehension.

“Let me start again. I would like to try and sneak past you. On a random street. Multiple times”

“Oh, like Ghostrunner?” Spooks offered, unhelpfully.

“Ghost... Runner?”

“Yeh. It’sa awesome game! For small kids anyways.” The orphan squirmed slightly. “One persons the ghost. Everyone tries to sneak past the ghost. If it grabs ya, you get obsessed and help the ghost catch the others.”

“Possessed.” Stev corrected automatically, marvelling at the dark nature of the children’s game.

“What? Eh. Well, I’m happy to play wit-chu if you want. I’m pretty good. I can show you some moves.” Spooks grinned.

“Oh, Ah, yes. That would work well. Thank you. Perhaps I can teach you how to balance a ledger afterwards?” Stev smiled to himself. He had fond memories of his parents explaining ledgers to him as a child.

“Er, p’haps. I… uuhh, might have to go help Mr. Rake then.”

“Ah, some other time then. Well, let us play some Ghostrunner then? I look forward to seeing you in action.”

Music was Stev’s passion. Each instrument had a place within a tapestry of sound. Each sound combined to make notes and chords. Each note and chord followed each other, obeying the rules and beat that makes music enjoyable. Stev fancied that music was the auditory metaphor of his own work. Despite his fascination, Stev had never really tried to interact with the other patrons and enthusiasts. That was soon to change. The crew needed more buyers, more people who would be interested in goods moved quietly. Perhaps there was a need amongst the others who shared his interests. The gods know that many of them had the money for it.

If there ever was a curious sight, it was a balding Accountant, a little pudgy, trying to balance and hop between the rigging of the Phantom Well. An unsteady jump between crates, fumbling handholds on swaying ropes. Surely, he would garner a few looks, and most likely some smirks, but that didn't faze Stev in the slightest. He was used to sneers and snickers.

-- --
"Oi Worm! Walked into any more poles recently?"
"What's the book you got there? How to be a loser?"
"Can't believe you applied for Manager, no one would listen to you."
"Fucking idiot. Don't talk to me."
--

Stev was never really accepted by his peers. Poor eyesight, worse social skills and a very different upbringing meant that he was a very easy target. For Stev, there was only one way to deal with such things. Prove them wrong. Get better at it. Be better than them, then laugh as you leave them behind. It required making a fool of yourself first though. And so, Stev stumbles across the deck, and scrambles up rigging.


[Training prowess]

While Stev's efforts to scout and mingle with the other music patrons was successful in making acquaintances, it wasn't successful in scouting out a new buyer. Stev would need some assistance. Which is why he was waiting at the Princess Theatre, after the latest event, with a bottle of whiskey in his hands. A usher asks for his purpose.

"Uh, I would like to meet with Tesslyn. The viola player." The usher raises an eyebrow. "I would like to show my appreciation for her skilled display." The usher nods and smiles knowingly. He gestures for Stev to stay put, and disappears into the back. Soon, a well dressed woman walks toward Stev, the aforementioned performer.

"An admirer, for me? Now this is unexpected." She smiles indulgently, and looks at the bottle in Stev's hands. "Ah, I see. Is this for me? Unfortunately, I won't be drinking it with you, I have other commitments tonight."

"Ah, no. I mean yes. Ah, here. This is for you" Stev thrusts the bottle of whiskey towards Tesslyn. "I don't intend to drink it with you. It is yours to do with what you wish. If I could only take some of your time now, it would be appreciated." Tesslyn takes the bottle, before looking back at Stev expectantly.

"While is true that I thoroughly enjoyed your performance, I must confess I am here for a separate reason. Although, if I can say, your performance of Leviathan's Dance was beauty to behold. You have some of the most dexterous fingers I have seen." Stev paused. "Ah... *cough* So, I had hoped we might come to an agreement. You see, I'm in the business of  transporting unique goods for people who don't want questions. I've been hoping to find some clients amongst those who enjoy the finer arts, but I haven't had much success. I believe that you would have more information, or access to said information, and I would be willing to... present gifts in exchange for what gossip you can give."

Tesslyn's smile dropped from her face, replaced by a puzzled frown. "I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean." She smiled once more, and winks. "Come back next week with some good quality wine. I'm sure I'll understand by then."

When Stev returns next week, Tesslyn greets him again after her performance. She accepts his wine gratefully, eyebrows raised as she reads the label.

"Connected with a fellow who might have need of your assistance. You'll have to talk to him directly. Name's Blackwell. Said to find him at The Veil in Nightmarket."

She leans in close to whisper in a conspiratorial fashion.

"I think he works for Lord Scurlock."

She gets up and waves daintily at Stev as she walks away.